Life is a circle
by Who am I. I am loved
Summary: Sienna is an orpahan and has no idea who her father is and doesn't even know her mothers name. One day she is thrown into a world of dragons, riders, hate and revenge. In an epic journy will she find out who she is and where she really belongs. AU plz rnr


Sienna knelt in a bed of trampled reed grass and scanned the tracks with a practiced eye. The prints told her that the deer had been in the meadow only a half-hour before. Soon they would bed target, a small doe with a pronounced limp in her left forefoot, was still with the herd. She was amazed the doe had made it so far without a wolf or a bear catching her.

The sky was clear and dark, and a light breeze stirred the air. A silvery cloud drifted over the mountains that surrounded her, it's edges glowing with ruddy cast from the harvest moon cradled between two peaks. Streams flowed down the mountains from stolid glaciers and glistening snow packs. A brooding mist crept along the valleys floor, almost thick enough to obscure her feet.

Sienna was fifteen, less than a year from becoming a woman. Dark manicured eyebrows rested above her intense, inquisitive brown eyes. A hunting knife with a bone handle was sheathed in her belt, a buckskin tube protected her yew bow from the mist.

The deer had led her deep into the Spine, a range of untamed mountains that extended up and down land Alagaesia. Strange tales and strange men often came from those mountains, usually boding ill. Despite that, Sienna did not fear the Spine-she was the only hunter near Carvahall who dared track game into its craggy recesses.

It was the third night of the hunt, and her food was half gone. If she did not fell the doe, she would be forced to return home empty handed. Her family needed the meat for the rapidly approaching winter and could not afford to buy it in Carvahall.

Sienna stood with a quiet assurance in the dusky moonlight, then strode into the forest toward a glen where she was sure the deer would rest. The trees blocked the sky from view and cast feathery shadows on the ground. She looked at the tracks only occasionally; She knew the way.

At the glen, she strung her bow with a sure touch, then drew three arrows and nocked one, holding the others in her left hand. The moonlight revealed twenty or so motionless lumps where the deer lay in the grass. The doe she wanted was at the edge of the herd, her left foreleg stretched out awkwardly.

Sienna slowly crept closer, keeping the bow ready. All her work of the last three days led to this moment. She took a last steadying breath and-an explosion shattered the night.

The herd bolted. Sienna lunged forward, racing through the grass as a fiery wind surged past her cheek. She slid to a stop and loosed an arrow at the bounding doe. It missed by a fingers breadth and hissed into darkness. She cursed and spun around, instinctively nocking another arrow.

Behind her, where the deer had been, smoldered a large circle of grass and trees. Many of the pines stood bare of their needles. The grass outside of the charring was flattened. A wisp of smoke curled into the air carrying a burnt smell. In the centre of the blast radius was a polished blue stone. Mist snaked across the scorched area and swirled insubstantial tendrils over the stone.

Sienna watched for danger for several long minutes, but the only thing that moved was the mist. Cautiously, she released the tension from her bow and moved forward. Moonlight cast her in a pale shadow as she stopped before the stone. She nudged it with an arrow, then jumped back. Nothing happened so she warily picked it up.

Nature had never polished a stone as smooth as this one. It's flawless surface was dark blue, except for thin white veins of white that spider-webbed across it. The stone was cool and frictionless under her fingers, like hardened silk. Oval and about a foot long, it weighed several pounds, though it felt lighter than it should have.

Sienna found the stone both beautiful and frightening. Where di it come from? Does it have A purpose? Then a more disturbing thought came to her: Was it sent here by accident, or am I meant to have it? If she had learned anything from old stories, it was to treat magic, and those who used it with caution.

But what should I do with the stone? It would be tiresome to carry, and there was a chance it could be dangerous. It might be better to leave it behind, a flicker of indecision ran through her, and she almost dropped it, but something stayed her hand. At the least, it might pay for some food, she decided with a shrug, tucking it into her pack.

The glen was to exposed to make camp, so she slipped into the forest and spread out her bedroll beneath the upturned roots of a fallen tree. after a cold dinner of bread and cheese, she wrapped herself in blankets and fell asleep, pondering what had occurred. 


End file.
